Struggle
by x.Inked.in.Shadows.x
Summary: After nine years in the Thieves Guild, Riane has been temporarily removed due to conflicting views with her guild master. Now out on her own, the young Breton must learn to cope with operating outside of the Guild, convince leery locals to trust her at her word, and find a way to coexist peacefully with the arrogant Dragonborn himself. Divines, give her strength... F!O.C. X M!O.C.
1. Arrival

So, I am completely and utterly **_obsessed_** with Skyrim. I have dedicated more than 250 hours of my life to this game... and I'm not sure if that's something I should be bragging about or not. Anyways, this story has been floating around in my head for quite some time. I actually had the first chapter written forever ago, but then I lost interest in writing it for some reason. The other day though, my friend ended up reading what I had and she liked it a lot, so I decided, _what the hell_, and am now uploading it on FanFiction.

This story is focusing on my Thieves Guild O.C. and my Dragonborn O.C. and their adventures throughout the game. _Eventually _(really stressing that part) this will turn into a romance. I'm giving fair warning now that there will be both major and minor changes in the Skyrim storyline that everyone is used to. Creative privilege can be a bitch sometimes, huh? But anyways, if you see something I write that doesn't match up with the game, most likely I did it on purpose, and it isn't a mistake.

I'm going to make an effort to update every two weeks or so, but most likely they'll be sporadic at best. Hopefully a few of you will stick around for it all. Feel free to rate and review and all that stuff, but for now, enjoy the show!

* * *

**Arrival**

The walls of Whiterun towered over the surrounding tundra plains. A small, shadowy figure regarded the city in front of her from the safety of the neighboring trees, her bright green eyes tracing the outline of Dragonsreach, the small farms just outside the walls, and the number of guards that patrolled the area. _Well…_ Riane thought to herself, _it'll do_. She straightened from her vantage point in the brush, pulling her hood low over her brow. Slowly, she began her trek to the gates, pulling up her scarf to cover the lower half of her face. She was well aware that she was a stranger in this city, and the concealment of her identity wasn't going to inspire much trust in the locals. But her anonymity was far too precious to her, and she would accept any consequences received because of it.

After getting passed the guards, who - giving her looks that just _screamed_ suspicion- warned her to stay out of trouble or she'd be enjoying a not-so-cozy night in the dungeons, she paused inside the gates. The city was larger than it seemed from outside, and much busier than Riften. People milled about everywhere, some shooting her curious stares, and she could hear the vendors in the market down the street. The loud clanging of a hammer on steel reverberated in her ears from the forge she stood near. Riane sighed. _Knew I should've gone to Winterhold…_ Deciding that, unfortunately, asking someone for directions would now be easier than wandering about the city, she begrudgingly approached the woman at the forge.

"Excuse me," Riane greeted softly. The woman glanced up at her and, shooting her a distasteful look, straightened. "I need some assistance. Could you point me to an inn?" she inquired, ignoring the woman's sneer at her concealed face. With a grunt, the Imperial leaned back over her workbench and continued to pound out the sword she was working on.

"The Bannered Mare is straight down this road. It's the place to be here in Whiterun. If you want something a little more off the beaten track, I'd suggest the Drunken Huntsman. It's right across the street and up the stairs." Riane glanced over her shoulder at the little building up on the hill. Off the beaten track was definitely preferable.

"Thank you," she said, nodding to the Imperial. Riane turned and headed up the stairs, eager to be hidden away in the relative privacy of a rented room. She pretended not to notice the woman's suspicious scowl burning into her back. Upon entering the Drunken Huntsman, Riane found that it was rather to her liking. It had a spacious main room with a large, roaring hearth in its center. Most importantly to her, however, was the fact that it was blessedly empty- aside from a quiet Dunmer woman sitting in an alcove.

"Ah! Hello there, my Breton friend," the Bosmer behind the counter greeted. Riane nodded politely in greeting as she approached. The elf's smiled widened as he noticed the bow strapped to her back. "I see you're a hunter! Excellent. You're certainly in the right place for any supplies you could ever need. My brother and I pride ourselves on keeping a fully stocked cache for our fellow archers."

Riane smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Divines know that archery is a seriously underappreciated art in this country." The elf's eyes twinkled with approval at her words as he nodded his agreement. "Right now though, I'm exhausted. I was thinking something more along the lines of renting a room for now."

"Of course," the Bosmer said cheerfully, stepping out from behind the counter. "Come right this way, friend." Riane followed him up the stairs and to a small bedroom. The bed was low to the ground and covered with warm-looking furs, and a small pitcher of water stood on the nightstand. "We usually charge ten septims a night," the innkeeper chirped, hovering at the doorway as though afraid he was being rude. Riane reached into her coin purse and drew out 10 of her meager septims, handing them over to the elf. He smiled appreciatively at her as he pocketed the coins.

"Thank you, friend. If you need anything, just call." Riane nodded as he closed the door behind him, and then fell wearily onto the bed. She was exhausted; she hadn't slept in a real bed since she'd left Riften. Absentmindedly, she fingered her purse, which didn't jingle _nearly_ as much as it needed to_. I suppose I'll have to go and sell the loot I got from those bandits…_ she mused quietly. Her eyes, though, fluttered closed on their own accord, as fatigue curled through her body. _After a quick nap, that is._

* * *

Riane jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in an unfamiliar bed. _Where was she?_ Blearily, she looked around the tiny room, and finally her memory returned. _I'm in an inn in Whiterun… that's right._ From the looks of the sun, she'd only been asleep a few hours. She sighed as she laid back down, pulling down her scarf so she could take a deep breath. She found it…interesting that she couldn't bring herself to take it off, even while she slept. Leaving it around her neck, Riane decided to try to keep it there, to walk undisguised into town. It didn't take long for her fingers to start twitching to pull it back into place.

She couldn't help her miserable little sigh. None of this felt right. She missed Riften; she missed the constant stench of fish and foulness that came from the lake, she missed the red and gold leaves that crunched under her feet as she walked, and more importantly, she missed the sense that her paranoia was well placed. Here in this city, there really was no need to constantly glance over her shoulder, to conceal her identity. But she still found herself pulling the scarf back over her nose. So long as there wasn't a face to match the name, Riane could protect herself. _Old habits die hard, I suppose, _she mused**_._**With a groan, she sat up and grabbed her satchel, rifling through its contents. A few pieces of jewelry and a single garnet- that was all she'd managed to loot from the corpses of the bandits who had thought her an easy target. Silently, she damned them all for not carrying more gold. Then with another heavy sigh, Riane stood and looped the satchel over her shoulder, heading to the market to try and make a little coin.

* * *

The market in Whiterun wasn't as big as the one in Riften, but it was much busier. People crowded around the handful of stalls, chattering away with one another. Even those who weren't shopping lingered around, enjoying the lovely Second Seed afternoon. Riane sighed internally. She was _definitely_ regretting not going to Winterhold. She'd take the freezing cold over the crowds any day. Deciding to suffer through her impromptu torture, she cautiously approached the old woman behind the jewelry stand.

"Hello, my dear," the woman greeted kindly. "See anything that catches your eye?" Riane smiled at the woman, pointless as it was with her scarf covering her face.

"Actually, I was hoping to sell… if that's alright?" She prayed to the Nine that it was. The woman simply chuckled and smiled, however.

"Of course, of course!" she exclaimed. "Let's see what you have." Riane carefully pulled out the baubles that she had collected and placed them on the counter. Fingering them carefully, the woman smiled again at her. "Let old Fralia take a look at these."

As Fralia hummed and looked over the pieces of jewelry, Riane let her eyes wander around the market, observing the daily activity. A small group of children scampered about, chasing one another and weaving through the throng of adults. A cluster of three dark-haired men laughed boisterously together on the stairs leading to the Wind District. It all seemed so… normal. What she would imagine as normal, anyways. Growing up on the streets and in the Riften sewers had left Riane sorely lacking in knowledge pertaining to anything as such.

"Curious, though." The old woman's musing pulled Riane's attention back to her. "A stranger like yourself hiding their face…" Fralia glanced at her over the ring she was examining. "None of my business, of course, but could the little miss be running from something? Hmm?"

Riane was startled. No one had ever read into her like that before. Not even _Brynjolf _for Talos' sake! However, instead of being worried or running the other way like she _knew_ she should, she found herself smiling at the other woman. "Why would you assume such a thing? Perhaps I'm simply cold. A perpetual case of a dripping nose sounds rather unpleasant, wouldn't you say?" The old woman burst out laughing, and Riane couldn't help but chuckle herself.

"Ah, you're a funny little one it seems!" Fralia cackled.

"Well, I have been-"

"What do you think you're doing, eh?" Riane turned, startled, to the guard who had interrupted her.

"Pardon?" she asked, confused. The guard crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her from behind his helmet.

"Don't play coy with me, girl. I know Thieves Guild armor when I see it. You're not fooling _anyone_."

Riane's heart slammed into her throat. The market had fallen silent when the guard had confronted her; now, hushed whispers flew through the air, bits of "trash" and "lowlife" ringing in her ears. Accusing stares burned into her at every angle. She should have known. How could she have been so _stupid_? Just because the Guild was nothing but a _husk_ of its former self, people could still recognize the tell-tale armor. _Stupid, _stupid_ rookie mistakes!_ She raged at herself. Brynjolf would have laughed at her predicament.

Swallowing the urge to run, she pulled herself up to her full- less than impressive- height. "I've done absolutely nothing wrong. I'm selling some wares and nothing more." She thanked whichever Divine or Daedra supporting her that her voice had come out strong.

"Hah!" the guard snorted. "More like you were trying to steal from Fralia right under her nose. I suggest you find somewhere else to haunt before I throw you in the dungeons."

"I would do no such-"

"That's enough out of you." The group of men on the stairs made their way down to stand beside the guard. All of them were tall, and so heavily muscled that they reminded Riane of the trunks of the huge pine trees that dominated the region. Two of them were obviously twins, while the other was slightly less rough in appearance. "We watch out for our own," that one growled, his stormy eyes glaring maliciously at her. "I catch you with your hand somewhere it shouldn't be, and by my right as a Companion, I'll cut it off. Understand? Now you'd better get out of my sight."

Riane returned his glower with a venomous one of her own, her temper simmering in her veins. "Do you think I'm frightened of you? I've had more concern over mudcrabs with _twice_ the brains you have, and ten times the manners," she snapped. "Who are any of _you_ to accuse people of their intentions simply due to ignorant prejudices? It's no secret as to why Whiterun's presence has diminished over the years; it's because of backwards _pigs_ such as you." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed back towards the Huntsman, ignoring the look of pure fury on the man's face. _Good_, she thought viciously. She half expected the brute to come after her, but a quick glance over her shoulder revealed that he had been swallowed up by the crowd. _Still…_ she thought to herself, _I'll need to keep my guard up now. And not just because of _him_ and his lackeys._ The entire city of Whiterun now knew that she was from the Guild. It looked as though her stay wouldn't be nearly as long as she had anticipated; Riane honestly couldn't decide if that was for better or worse.


	2. Assistance

What is this blasphemy? I actually managed to update in the time I said I would? I have impressed myself.

* * *

**Assistance**

The Drunken Huntsman was, again, thankfully empty when she returned. Not even the Dunmer woman from earlier lurked in the alcove. The Bosmer innkeeper sent a friendly smile her way as she hurried inside, but she was too upset to manage more than a distracted nod as a reply. Barely restraining herself from bolting up the stairs, she shut the door to her room firmly behind her, sagging against it once the lock clicked into place. Frustrated, she yanked the hood from her head and glared at a random spot on the wall. What had she been _thinking_? Unfortunately, Riane knew the answer to that- she hadn't been. While it was true that the guild's influence no longer stretched to Whiterun, her armor was still an obvious giveaway; to her, it was such a small, trivial thing… one that, as a senior member of the Thieves Guild, she _should not_ have overlooked.

_And now the entire city is up in arms and watching my every move_, Riane thought bitterly, clenching her fists as she started to pace the length of her small room. She'd be lucky if she wasn't roused in the middle of the night by guards coming to haul her to a waiting dungeon cell. Letting out a defeated sigh, she sank down onto the bed, cradling her head in her hands. She needed to come up with a new plan.

As she rummaged through her pack to find her decaying map, she found her mind wandering back to why she was even _in_ this thrice-cursed situation, and a harsh scowl settled across her face. "Damn you, Mercer Frey…" she muttered to herself. She and the guild master had never really gotten along; even when she had first been recruited all those years ago, Brynjolf had often scolded her about her lack of respect for their leader. She honestly couldn't help herself though. There was something about the older Breton that rubbed her the wrong way. And now he was threatening to ban her from the Guild due to her- how had he put it?-"Infuriating moral compass." _Horses' ass…_ Riane growled. She didn't know how long her temporary exile was intended to last, but she prayed to any higher power who might be listening that it would be short.

Gently spreading the well-worn map across the bed, her eyes traced over the marks of the major cities scattered across the province. Her first instinct was to flee to Winterhold. Even if someone there did connect her with the Guild, chances were that they'd be far more concerned with the College mages than a lone thief. For the first time in Riane's life, the Nords' natural prejudice against magic would serve to further her cause instead of impede it. She was already deciding on how to let Brynjolf know of her abrupt change in plans when she dumped out her coin purse to estimate the cost of the journey. Her heart sank, however, when she realized that she only had a mere twenty septims to her name.

_From here, it'll take at least seventy to get to Winterhold, if not more,_ Riane thought dazedly. Her pockets had never been this light before; not since before Brynjolf had recruited her. _And I ran off without getting payment for that jewelry…_

"Damn it," she hissed under her breath. She jumped to her feet and started to pace again, her hands twisting the raven length of her braid. Hitching a ride on a carriage was out of the question now. Even if she were to head to Falkreath, the closest major city to Whiterun, it'd still cost twenty septims- at minimum. Sparing a glance out the window, the tiny Breton cursed once again. The sun was already beginning to sink in the sky. She'd only have a few hours at most before darkness swallowed Skyrim; not nearly enough time to reach Falkreath. While Riane was quite at home shrouded in the night, and confident in her combat abilities, she was also not a fool. The temperature would drop drastically once the sun set, and she didn't have the proper clothing to ward off the chill it would bring. She also would run the risk of encountering any number of wild animals and brigands. Bandits she could handle, along with the majority of fauna in the area. However, the heavily wooded region of Falkreath Hold was favored by trolls. Riane shuddered at the thought of engaging one of the hulking beasts, day or night. There also was the recent insurgence of vampires throughout the province to consider. She would be at a distinct disadvantage trying to fight a group of them in the darkness, and she had no desire to become the intended prey of the blood sucking demons.

_Or even worse,_ she mused to herself, _a dragon attack._ Riane felt herself pale at the image of a giant fire breathing monster, with snapping jaws full of dagger-like teeth. She shook her head violently to clear the picture from her mind. Dragon attacks could happen at any time, she knew, but she preferred her chances of avoiding one in the daytime. _It's unlikely that the mighty Dragonborn would be anywhere close to help me, after all._ Despite her steadily worsening situation, she chuckled to herself. She had heard the outlandish tale of the ancient Nord legend many a time; a being with the blood and soul of a dragon, who was trapped in a mortal body. They could speak and understand the language of the dragons, devour their very souls to absorb their knowledge. Legend claimed that the Dragonborn's voice was a weapon of mass destruction; that it was the same power Ulfric Stormcloak had used to slay the High King, only multiplied astronomically. Personally, Riane thought that the Nords needed to curb their fondness for mead. A person with the ability to absorb a dragon's soul? Ridiculous. She'd been told that a man had been instrumental in the defeat of a dragon near Whiterun a few months back, but there wasn't enough alcohol in the entire frozen land to make her believe he could literally devour the creature's very essence- and Riane couldn't hold her drink for anything.

Shaking her head, she forced her focus back to the matter at hand. She couldn't leave until dawn at the earliest, and so she needed to prepare herself for any potential "incidents" that might occur until then. She thanked the Nine that she was a light sleeper.

Her thoughts still awhirl, she started to scrape together an escape plan; Divines knew that she was probably going to need it. As she turned about her small space, Riane felt her frown deepen. The more she examined it, the more the room felt like a lavish jail cell: with only one set of windows- that happened to be far too small for even her to fit through, a single small door that lead to an equally small landing, and inadequate space for her to sneak around any potential pursuers, her chances of escaping were looking more and more slim. Riane felt as though Lady Nocturnal was laughing at the sudden absence of her luck. Sparing a quick glance out the window, she realized that her quarters were perched just over the steep edge of the hill the inn sat on. Another factor that was definitely not in her favor.

"This day just gets better and better…" Riane muttered to herself. Deciding to examine the lower level of the Huntsman to better add to her mental map, she replaced her hood and readjusted her scarf over her nose. Taking a moment to steel herself, she reluctantly left the pseudo-safety of her room.

The landing was just as small as she had assumed it was. It would be child's play for the guards to bottleneck her here. Scowling, she made her way down the stairs; they were open on the right side- her first stoke of luck all evening. She could easily jump down and make a break for the door…as long as there wasn't a sea of guards waiting for her.

_The Jarl wouldn't be so stupid as to send that many guards to apprehend one thief… right?_ Riane wasn't so sure any more. As she tried to convince herself that it was unlikely she'd be facing down a whole platoon of guards, sharp whispers caught her attention. Elrindir, the innkeeper, stood with another Bosmer man, their heads close together as they murmured in harsh voices. They snapped upright when the bottom stair creaked under her foot, their golden eyes fixing her with looks of disdain. With a cold feeling of dread in her stomach, Riane recognized the other man as the meat merchant from the market. He had been there to witness her confrontation with the guards and that vile _beast_. She was slightly surprised at the anger that sizzled through her; Riane was normally a very calm, levelheaded woman. She was not one to hold grudges. And yet just picturing the ass in her mind had her temper rising dangerously. Curious indeed.

Elrindir cleared his throat, bringing Riane back to the present. Right. She needed to deal with this problem first and worry about her new "friend" later. "I'm very sorry to say, miss, but it has come to our attention that your… choice of employment is of the rather _unsavory_ sort. We'll have to ask you to leave. Immediately."

Riane sighed softly and held up her hands. "Elrindir, I am not here on Guild business. In fact, I'm on leave right now. I'm here to enjoy the peace and quiet and calm my mind; you're all such good people, I've no interest in stealing anything from anyone." _Well, most of you are, at least_, she corrected in her mind, the swine's face from earlier flashing behind her eyelids. But the innkeeper hardly needed to know of her tiff with the Companion. "I give you my word; you and all of your belongings are safe. I promise."

"You expect us to trust the word of a dirty thief?" the other man sneered. He and Elrindir looked very similar in appearance. Riane wondered if they were maybe brothers, or cousins. "I don't think so. Leave now, or we'll call the guards."

"I haven't even done anything!" Riane cried.

"Exactly right, little miss, you haven't." Riane's head snapped towards the voice near the door- she'd been so focused on the elves that she hadn't registered the _creak_ of the heavy wood. The woman from the jewelry stand, Fralia, stood there with her hands on her hips.

"Anoriath, stop frothing at the mouth and leave the girl alone. She's not done a damn thing wrong."

The second Bosmer, the one from the market, scowled at the old woman. "She's a thief, Fralia. I'm not keen on having everything we own taken right out from under our noses!"

"I would imagine not." Fralia crossed the room to stand next to Riane, placing a hand on the Breton's shoulder. "And that's why you throw her out on the street and yell for the guards _after_ she's stolen something. You can't go about accusing people of crimes they haven't yet committed."

"You think she can't take what she wants and disappear in the dead of night?" Anoriath growled.

"Do _you_ think she can get over the walls with a bag of loot when she has the guards watching her every move?" Shit. Riane hadn't thought about getting passed the city walls. The chances of her getting through the gate were virtually zero, and the chances of her surviving a jump over the towering battlements were even lower. She was thankful that her scarf covered her flushing cheeks.

When Anoriath didn't answer, Fralia turned her gaze on Elrindir. "She's a paying customer who needs a roof over her head. The girl's been nothing but friendly and polite since she got here. Plus," a smile curled the elder's wrinkled lips, "she's a fellow archer. Are you really going to toss her out on the street?"

The Bosmer was silent for a moment. His eyes jumped between Fralia and Riane, and the thief resisted the urge to squirm. In her line of work, notoriety did not bode well. Finally, the man sighed. "Very well. She can stay… for now." He fixed Riane with a sharp gaze. "But rest assured that we will be keeping a _very_ close eye on everything. And I mean _everything_." At Riane's acquiescing nod, he turned to Fralia. "And if she finds that she can't keep her sticky little fingers to herself, my brother and I will be holding you personally responsible, Fralia. Is that clear?"

"I'm old, boy, not daft." She patted Riane on the back and waved the brothers away. "Don't you worry about the little miss here. She's not going to be a bit of trouble." The elves exchanged doubtful glances, but did as Fralia said and went back about their business. Riane let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and turned to the old woman.

"Thank you for help. I just… not that I don't appreciate it, I truly do, but… why?" The other woman's eyes twinkled.

"Sometimes it can be hard starting over. You're going to be met with a lot of resistance. But I think everyone deserves a second chance; even little thieves."

Riane frowned and looked away guiltily. "I'm not going to lie to you, ma'am, not after you just helped me. I'm not here to start anything over- I'm quite content with my way of life. I'm just here on a temporary leave, nothing more. I'm sure to be back picking pockets again in a few months."

"We'll see." Riane frowned and cocked her head at the woman's response. She had just openly admitted that she would be returning to a life of crime, and yet the woman was not screeching for the guards- in fact, she seemed completely unruffled by it. She was about to politely question Fralia's sanity when she was interrupted.

"That reminds me!" The old woman bent to untie a coin purse at her belt and pressed it into Riane's hands. "That's the coin from the baubles you sold me earlier. Would have brought it to you earlier, but I couldn't leave the stand unmanned."

Riane's brows shot to her hairline. "I… wasn't expecting this."

"You didn't think I was going to run off with your money, now did you?"

"It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Nor the last, I expect," Riane sighed, accepting the purse gladly. The familiar heft of gold in her hands was comforting to her.

"If you don't mind me saying, little miss, that's not much coin to go on," Fralia pointed out. The Breton simply cocked a brow.

"And why is it that you think this is all my coin?" Fralia laughed and patted the young woman's shoulder.

"I am old, not daft, my dear; why everyone seems to think otherwise today is beyond me. But I know that look you had in your eye. Worrying about where your next meal will come from, how long you can survive out on the streets… you're not the only one to be in this situation." Her eyes were filled with sympathy, and Riane found she could not bear to meet her gaze.

"In my defense, I haven't been in a circumstance like this since… since a very long time ago." Her tone of voice made it clear that she was not going to elaborate further.

"Of course. Though, I'm hoping to help you with your money problems, little miss." Riane blinked, shocked.

"Pardon?" Fralia smiled warmly at her.

"My husband's been busy at the forge as of late, what with the war and all, and my sons are both away on business. Without them around to help, the chores are piling up on me. I could certainly use a helping hand right about now."

Riane held up a hand. "Let me get this straight; you're offering to _hire_ me? A _thief_?" The old woman shook with mirth.

"That's right. You've got a strong, young back and energy to spare. You're perfect for the job."

Riane couldn't help but hesitate. This kindly older woman had appeared out of nowhere to help her in her time of need… and she didn't trust it. Life was never this easy.

"I…" The paranoid part of her mind was screaming that this was some kind of trap, that it could just be an elaborate scheme to frame her for a crime she'd never commit. But the logical part of her brain knew that she didn't have a choice in the matter. With her ties to the Guild known throughout the city, there wouldn't be anyone in the general vicinity that would hire her. And she was desperate for coin.

Slowly, Riane nodded. Her gut was screaming at her to tell the old bat to bugger off, but she had to be intelligent about her actions now. "I… I suppose I don't have a lot of options right now. Thank you, ma'am. You've done me a great service. I won't forget it."

Fralia's eye's twinkled. "I knew you were a smart girl. Was afraid I was going to have to swat some sense into that head of yours for a minute there, but you came through in the end." Riane's lips curled up despite herself. "Now, you get upstairs and get yourself some sleep; you're going to need it. Be over at House Grey-Mane at dawn. Just follow the stairs to the Wind District and turn right. It's at the bottom of the hill, pressed right against the wall. Understand?"

Riane nodded and the elderly Nord patted her again on the shoulder. "Excellent. See you bright and early, then." With that, she turned on her heel and headed to the door. Riane watched her go, her mind awhirl. In the span of a few hours, she'd been exposed, threatened, and was now receiving job opportunities- despite her unearned infamy. She shook her head as she climbed the stairs back to her room. This city was odd in every sense of the word, from her layout to her citizens. Locking the door behind her, Riane fell heavily onto the bed. Her inner voice was still chastising her for being so trusting of Fralia; in her line of work, trusting strangers usually ended with a blade in the back. Even knowing that she'd had little to no choice in the matter did little to ease her mind. With a sigh, she let her eyes drift closed, and after laying awake for many hours, finally drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

Alright, guys! There's chapter two for you. This is the last introductory chapter, so in (hopefully) two more weeks, there'll actually be stuff, you know, _happening_. Hope you guys are enjoying the little there is so far! Rate, review, comment, all that good stuff.


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